


Deviance

by jamapanama



Category: Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: Chrysalids AU, FNFF SeSa, FNFF SeSa 2009, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamapanama/pseuds/jamapanama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a strange ship comes to their town, Jon and Stephen end up taking a trip that changes the way they think about themselves and the world around them. An AU loosely based on the world of John Wyndham's <i>The Chrysalids</i> (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chrysalids">Wikipedia article</a> for more information). Ages have been played with a little, with most of the characters in their late teens, and Keith and Anderson a little older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deviance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJer canadian_plant as part of the FNFF 2009 Secret Santa, following the prompt - Pairing: PRT+ or TDS/TCR casts / Niche: AU inspired by The Day of the Triffids or The Chrysalids

1.

Jon was sitting on the shore, collecting stones for skipping, the morning the ship came in. He saw the sails and thought that they were clouds until the mast came into view. Other boys would have rushed back into town at the sight, but Jon wasn't much for running. And so, he was glad to be alone then, able to make his way slowly back down the path from the beach.

The rocks shook and clicked together in Jon's pocket as he climbed the steps to the Inspector's house. He paused at the door, catching his breath a little before he knocked.

Stephen opened the door, of course, grinning at Jon's frown.

"Is your uncle in?" Jon asked.

Stephen shook his head. "He's a few houses down, looking at a cat. Is it something important?"

"There's a ship," Jon said.

Not a second had passed before Stephen was pushing past him and rushing down the road to where his uncle had gone. Jon trotted behind him, huffing at the extra weight of the rocks in his pocket. Stephen didn't wait for Jon to catch up when he reached the house, though he did leave the door open behind him as he slipped into the little sitting room.

"Uncle," he shouted. He didn't shrink from his sudden intrusion into an apparently heated discussion between his uncle and a small, frail old woman.

Jon stood in the doorway, watching the Inspector slowly lower the cat. He had it by the back legs and was staring at the front paws.

"What is is, Stephen?" He shook the cat a little as he spoke. "Can't you see--"

"Jon saw a ship," Stephen answered.

His uncle took one last look at the cat, shaking his head at its owner.

"Those thumbs aren't natural," he sighed. "I'm sorry." Then, he turned toward Jon, still hanging in the entryway. "A ship?"

"Yes sir, down by the beach," Jon muttered, keeping his eyes on the ground. Stephen's uncle didn't like him much, though that was mostly because of his lungs. The defect was just small enough to have been mostly ignored, and it helped that Stephen liked him, but it still made things a little strained between Jon and the inspector. "It looked like it was running along the shoreline, looking for a place to dock."

The inspector nodded. "You and Stephen go find the Magistrate and I'll head down to the water."

"Yes sir," both boys answered. Jon turned away and Stephen skipped across the floor, lightly shoving his palm between Jon's shoulder blades, pushing him back out into the street. As the door swung shut behind him, Jon could hear the woman begin to speak again, one last attempt to save the cat's life. It wasn't going to work. It never did, not with the Inspector.

Now that he had found his uncle, Stephen slowed his pace. He and Jon walked side by side down the road, Jon's hands slipping into his pockets. As Stephen took up the thread of his usual endless chatter, this time focusing his words on everything a boat coming to the shores could mean, Jon played the stones between his fingers. He listened to their smooth rub and soft clacks as much as to what Stephen was saying.

"Do you think there will be?" Stephen asked.

Jon shook his head. "What?"

"You weren't listening," Stephen grinned. "You're never listening. I said, 'Do you think there will be any deviations aboard the boat?' There were last time, remember? Uncle almost had the whole ship put to flames. It was, well, awesome, wasn't it?"

Jon shook his head again. It was his most common response to Stephen's rambling and he sometimes wondered if it would one day lead to permanent neck injury.

He had found the whole situation more sad than anything else. There had been a little girl on the last ship, he had seen her staring at the torches as the mob approached. She had had the biggest, saddest eyes, and had looked perfectly normal, except for her mouth, that strange little mouth that had gotten the whole ship in trouble. In the end, the townspeople had just stripped the ship bare and let them go, but Jon could still remember the look on that little girl's face.

"I'm not sure, Stephen." Jon looked up the road, counting the last remaining houses on the street. "Do you even know where we're going?"

"Yes," Stephen snorted. "Follow me."

Stephen took off again, rounding the next corner and disappearing out of sight. Jon knew he was doing it on purpose, just to bother him, and he also knew where the Magistrate lived, so he didn't bother trying to catch up.

 

2.

The ship's captain couldn't have been too much older than Jon or Stephen, which meant he was really practically a boy, but his hair was the strangest color, silver like an old man's. It made the people all stand back as he dropped onto the dock.

He seemed to expect the reaction he received, and so he immediately offered the people a sheet of paper, fanning it out between the Inspector and the Magistrate, until Stephen's Uncle took it from him. His certificate.

When both men had taken a look, they handed it back to him. He slipped it back into his coat and then spoke. "Everyone on my ship has one of those. You can check them all, if you'd like; there aren't too many of us. But right now, I need to talk with your officials, as quickly as possible."

The Inspector sent Stephen, with Jon tagging along, to help one of his men check the certificates of the rest of the crew. Then, he and the Magistrate led the Captain away from the dock.

Everything on board went well until Stephen and Jon reached the bow of the ship. There, they found a tall, short-haired girl waiting on a stack of boxes, her documentation in her hand. As she passed the paper over to Stephen, Jon felt the strangest little sensation. There was something about her eyes that wasn't quite right. The pupils were far more constricted than they should have been, even in direct light. He stared at her for a long time while Stephen studied the certificate. The other boy looked at that even longer, frowning for a while before finally handing it back to her.

"Thank you," Stephen muttered. Jon watched him staring up at the girl, his lips pressed into a thin line.

She nodded and turned away. Jon smiled at her, and she smiled back, but just barely.

They met the Inspector's man back on the docks, and he and Stephen conferred quietly for a few minutes. Then, they spoke briefly with the woman Jon guessed was the first mate, a small mousy woman with big eyes and lips that flashed back and forth between a grin and a grimace. When everything was settled, they made their way back toward the town. Jon and Stephen broke off from the man and the first mate when the trail split, heading down toward the beach.

The boys spent the rest of the morning skipping stones and exchanging gossip until Jon's father appeared on the ridge above them.

"I need your help with a sheep," he shouted. The boys nodded and followed him back toward the house.

Slaughtering animals was the one thing Jon was good at that Stephen couldn't even stomach. Stephen shied from the blood and the struggle, but Jon had a special way with the livestock, an understanding no one else experienced. He'd sit with a sheep or goat and tell it a story his mother had told him as a child, about Father Abraham and his only son. He'd stroke its coat and whisper to it about Isaac and angels and God, and eventually, the animal would quiet down. Then, his father would take up the ax.

As Jon petted the old, fat sheep, Stephen made small talk with Jon's father. The captain of the unexpected ship, a young man with the slightly unusual name "Anderson", had requested a few supplies from the town, rope, food, candles and other tools. The people by the sea were the God fearing sort, and generous, so the news had spread fast. Everyone was going to meet by the docks that afternoon, and no one would turn up empty-handed. The sheep, though old, was healthy, and it was just the sort of gift Jon's family would give.

When the bloody part came around, Stephen went inside to help Jon's mom tidy up the house, but later, he helped Jon shoulder the killed beast down the road and back to the docks.

Stephen's uncle and aunt brought corn and other vegetables from their little personal garden. They had a good patch, with soil that was neither salty nor too sandy, and so they had plenty to spare. The majority of townsfolk were there, all carrying something. Jon and Stephen watched Anderson direct his crew, the girl with the strange eyes, and a dozen others, as they carried the supplies aboard. He thanked each person for his gift with a broad smile and the occasional laugh.

The ship would set sail again in the morning. After a few words and a little posturing, the Magistrate invited Anderson and his higher officials to share a dinner. The Inspector and Stephen would be there, too, of course, so Jon returned home with his father, to eat with his family and hopefully dream of the sea.

 

3.

Jon wasn't really asleep. He was lying in his bed, a candle burning beside him, staring up at the ceiling. He had a few books he hadn't read yet, things his father had bartered for when they'd had a particularly good crop the year before, but he didn't feel like reading. He was thinking about Anderson, the man with the silver hair, and that girl with the weird eyes, though only Stephen knew her name. He wondered where they were going. He wondered if they were happy.

He was about to give up and blow out his light when he heard the familiar sound of pebbles hitting his window. He let out a long sigh and then dropped out of bed, unlatching the window and pulling it up. Stephen immediately scrambled through, breathing hard, with a panicked look on his face.

"Hey!" Jon whispered. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Jon, I don't know if I did the right thing."

"What do you mean?" Jon led Stephen to the bed, making him sit down while he lifted the pitcher he kept on his nightstand. He poured Stephen a glass of water and then sat down next to him.

"That girl, the tall one, Rachel..." Stephen breathed, taking a long drink.

Jon frowned. "The one with--"

"With the eyes," Stephen nodded. "Her certificate, it was such an obvious fake. I don't know why I didn't just turn her in right then, but--"

"But you didn't?" Jon asked.

"Not until a few minutes ago." He looked over at Jon. "I told my uncle. He's visiting the Magistrate right now."

"Stephen, I--"

"They are lying to us, and if they are lying to us, they are stealing from us. I couldn't let them. I just..."

Jon stood up, hunting through the pile of clothes by his bed until he found a pair of pants. He pulled them right over his underwear, grabbing a shirt from nearby.

"What are you doing?" Stephen asked.

Jon shook his head. "You know what the townspeople are going to do when they find out, right?"

"Yes, but..."

Jon crammed his feet into his shoes and then stomped toward the window. He climbed out without looking back.

If the running didn't kill him, Jon was probably going to kill himself for doing it once he was done. Still, he couldn't help himself. He wasn't even sure why he felt this way. Stephen was probably right. A bunch of deviations couldn't just come in and take everything from the Normals, even if they needed it... But, what if they really did need it? His chest was burning, his breath starting to come in fits, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down until he hit the wooden walkway leading up to the dock.

His heavy footsteps must have alerted whoever was watching in the night, because before he'd even reached the ramp that led onto the ship, Rachel was coming down to meet him. Her face twisted in concern as she approached.

"Are you okay?" she asked, but he couldn't answer. He was still gasping and wheezing when Stephen caught up with them.

Rachel eyed them both, frowning as Stephen began to speak.

"You're in trouble," he said. "We need to talk to your captain.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, but nodded, dropping an arm over Jon's shoulder as she led them up onto the ship.

By the time they were below deck, Jon could breathe again. He said it all in one burst, never mentioning Stephen's name, but telling them about the fake documents and the Inspector and the Magistrate, and what had happened to the last boat.

As soon as Jon had finished, Anderson was giving orders. They were to depart immediately, with no word to anyone else. As the preparations began, he turned back to the boys.

"You should leave," he said, his voice soft, but firm. "Thank you."

Stephen nodded, but Jon shook his head.

"I want to go with you."

Stephen gaped, tugging at Jon's sleeve. "That's a very interesting idea, really, but it isn't going to happen. Come on, before it's too late."

"No," Jon answered. "If Captain Cooper will let me, I want to sail. I want to go with them."

Anderson frowned and then smiled. He didn't say a word, just shrugged and turned away, shouting something at his first mate as he climbed the ladder back out onto the deck.

Stephen's face turned green, and not just because the boat had begun to rock as the crew made their preparations.

"Jon, this is foolish, plain and simple. You can't just--"

"Why not?"

"What about your parents?"

Jon shrugged. "They'll be fine without me. Everyone looks at me funny because of my breathing, anyway. Think about it. It would probably be better for them."

"Jon..."

"You know it's true. My body's not right. I'm not good for our town. Your uncle would be more than relieved to see me gone."

"Fine, but you're an idiot." Stephen crossed his arms over his chest and glared. He bit his lip and stared down at the ground.

"Probably," Jon answered, "but there's nothing new there. You should go, though."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?" Stephen asked.

"Stephen..."

There was a loud noise above, followed by the hatch swinging open. Rachel stuck her head into the space, her eyes immediately shrinking from hugely dilated to their normal pinpricks. She looked at one boy and then the other.

"If you're staying on board, you'd better be willing to work. Come on."

Anderson's crew moved quickly, and the torches were barely on the horizon by the time the ship took to sea.

 

4.

Stephen's father had died when he was a young boy, in a stupid accident he didn't like to think about. It had been difficult and strange, but, somehow, things had still kept working without him. His older brothers helped take care of the family, and life continued. His mother was pregnant at the time, but everyone expected her to have another perfect child, like all the rest.

She went into labor a little early, but that wasn't particularly strange, either, especially given the stress she had been under. Everyone kept quiet about it, though, waiting, expecting.

There had been something wrong with the baby's shoulder. Stephen was in the room during the birth, and he'd seen it before even the midwife had. Everyone had expected his mother to be shocked, especially after ten normal births, but no one had expected her to disappear with the little girl. When she didn't return after two weeks, Stephen's brothers decided it would be too much work for them to take care of all of the children without their mother. So, they divided the family up, sending the younger three siblings to stay with other family members.

Stephen went to his uncle's by the sea. He'd never quite acclimated to the frontier lands, but there wasn't much he could do about it. It was slightly warmer, though, and his aunt and uncle were good people. Besides their familiar support, as the only child his uncle had to raise, he was being groomed to be an Inspector himself one day.

But it never really made it all quite right. Something had always felt like it was missing.

Lying on his back under the deck, he wondered if maybe this was just the way it was supposed to be.

There weren't any open cots on the ship, but some of the deckhands had rigged Jon and him a mattress of grass and linen in an open corner. He was lying closest to the wall, and when Jon rolled over, tossing an arm around Stephen's waist, there was nowhere for him to go. Stephen didn't bother trying to push him away. He just closed his eyes and hoped for sleep.

Another hour passed, and even the slow rocking of the ship couldn't put him to sleep. Stephen rolled from one side to the other, until Jon curled away he was alone on his back again. Then, he heard the soft sound of footsteps.

It was too dark for him to see anything until Rachel was right in his face, halfway leaning against the wall, peering down at him.

"Hold out your arms," she whispered.

He did as she said and she grabbed his hands, hoisting him straight up and then muttering a quiet, "Come on."

She tugged him through the dark over to the lantern-brightened ladder. He followed her up onto the deck and back to the boxes where he first met her.

"It gets easier to sleep after a couple of days," she said, motioning for him to sit down by the rail. "Of course, by then, we'll be home and you'll have to adjust to dry land again."

Stephen smiled, watching her crack open the box beside him and pull out a dark glass bottle.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" he asked.

"I prefer my rest to happen in the afternoon," she answered, biting down on a piece of something that looked like wood that was sticking up from the top of the bottle. She tucked the stopper into her pocket and then handed Stephen the bottle.

Stephen stared at the bottle for a moment, sniffing the top. "What is this?"

Rachel laughed. "You have no idea, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Try it. It's bitter, but I think you'll enjoy it."

Stephen took a swig, glaring up at Rachel when he sputtered and she laughed.

"It's alcohol, isn't it?" he asked. He'd heard of it, of course, but they didn't allow it in his town, even though he knew it still existed in the right places at the right time.

Rachel nodded. "Wine. Drink more, it'll make you sleep better."

They passed the bottle back and forth, Rachel staring out over the water, her eyes scanning the horizon and then darting back again. They were mostly quiet, until Stephen started feeling warm and a little giddy.

Suddenly, he laughed.

"What?" Rachel asked, smiling big enough for him to see the white of her teeth in the dim moonlight.

He grinned and then frowned. "You can see in the dark."

"Kind of, yes," Rachel answered, taking the bottle back from him. "Which is why my Normalcy Certificate is a forgery."

Stephen was quiet for a few seconds. Then, he spoke. "Are a lot of the people on this ship...?"

"A few of us, but not the majority. Cooper doesn't care, and, yes, he's officially certified as normal, believe it or not. He just... He thinks it's stupid, and, obviously, I agree."

Rachel looked Stephen in the eye, then, and all he saw was black and white, though he couldn't be sure if it was just the darkness playing tricks on him. He looked away, down at his hands and then across the deck.

"It's all right that you told the Inspector," Rachel finally said. "I think I understand. And I won't tell anyone else."

"I..." Stephen began, the blood draining from his face. He looked around again, swaying a little in his seat. "How did...?"

Rachel smiled. "You're getting drunk. You should go back to bed."

Stephen nodded, and stood, the combination of wine and the ocean sending him staggering. Rachel jumped up and grabbed him by the arm, and he let her lead him back down into the hold, somehow navigating the ladder on his own, though he needed her hand to find his bed again.

He collapsed next to Jon, barely missing an awkwardly strewn arm on his way down.

"Good night," Rachel whispered, receiving a low grunt in response.

Stephen slept well, except for his dreams.

 

5.

Jon woke up to general mayhem, morning on the ship. Stephen was a rock under the blankets, so he left him, following the dim light of the open hatch out onto the deck.

Anderson was nowhere to be found, but the first mate was shouting at a group of goofy teenaged deckhands who were leaning lazily against the rail, and, although it wasn't the exact situation Jon wanted to walk into, he made his way in their direction.

"John! Don't be an idiot!"

Jon froze in his tracks, hanging awkwardly until he realized she wasn't speaking to him. When he started to walk again, the first mate laughed and motioned to him.

"No, not you, but that is your name, right?"

He nodded. "No 'h', though."

"Erica," she answered, not offering him her hand, but looking him over instead. "You want to haul some boxes for me? You're small, but I think you can do a better job than those worthless lumps."

Jon couldn't really say no, so he soon found himself sweating and grunting with the rest of the group, bringing boxes down into the previously unknown other hold, climbing up and down ladders and tossing supplies back and forth. No one hassled him when he had to take a break after each round to catch his breath. If anything, the others seemed to be watching him with a sort of admiration. On his fifth trip, Rachel stopped him on his way down, ruffling his sweaty hair.

"Where's your friend?" she asked.

Jon huffed, then shrugged. "Sleeping, I think."

"I'm heading in his direction," Rachel said with a grin. "I'll wake him up."

Jon was just coming out into the light again when Stephen came rushing out through the other hatch.

Jon laughed, jogging over to him. "What did she do to you?"

"I don't... Oh God..."

Jon got him to the side of the ship before the vomit came, but it was close.

"Seasick?" the boy named John asked, venturing over to pat Stephen hard on the back.

Stephen jerked his head up. "What does it look like?"

"Looks like wine to me," another boy shouted, dancing around them as he ducked down for another crate.

Jon wasn't sure if the boy was talking about the sickness or its issue, and he didn't ask. He'd had something like wine once, but only a little drink of it, though he'd heard...

"Oh, just make him work through it!" Erica laughed, sliding over to the side, watching Stephen spit and groan. "That'll teach him."

The next two hours were misery, for Stephen because of the hangover, and for Jon because of Stephen's grumbling. He didn't throw up again, but he did retch a few times, and every time he wasn't retching, he was moaning fantastically. Still, he carried boxes, and then helped open them, sorting through the goods he had earlier called "stolen", setting some in piles, and repackaging others, as he was told.

When the boys heard someone above deck shouting about food, Stephen was one of the first people out of the hold, scrambling at the hope that eating something might finally put everything back to normal.

Lunch was corn and carrots and mutton--Jon's sheep, Stephen realized--and it tasted incredible. Anderson was there, but he mostly ignored the boys, laughing with his crew and occasionally whispering to Erica or a quiet man neither Jon nor Stephen had met yet.

Everyone lazed around afterward, Jon and Stephen escaping back into the dark of the supply hold. Stephen's stomach felt better, but his head still hurt and the sun only made it worse.

As soon as they were alone, Jon started asking questions.

"So, what exactly did you do last night?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I talked to Rachel."

"And that made you sick?"

"She had wine?"

"And being near it made you sick?"

"No, you ass, drinking it made me sick. Why are you being so mean?"

Jon smiled. "So, what did you and Rachel talk about?"

"Her certificate."

Jon's smile immediately disappeared. "What did you say to her?"

"Well, actually, she said it to me. She already knew I was the one who told, though I don't know how."

"It's probably because of the way you were staring at her," Jon answered with a snort.

Stephen shook his head, then grimaced.

"What?" Jon asked.

Stephen hid his face in his hands. "Oh, Jon, never drink, never ever drink."

 

6.

Jon was drunk and spinning around in wide circles that made Stephen dizzy just watching him. Rachel was laughing. Anderson was staring quietly, though still smiling the tiniest bit. Stephen took another drink and then shook his head.

"Have some water, too," Rachel whispered, leaning in toward him, and make Jon drink some, too. It'll make for a better morning."

"Now you tell me," Stephen grunted.

"Pretty much," Rachel answered with a snort. "Hey, I've got to go watch for a while, but if you two are still up later, I'll remind you again then."

He watched her disappear toward the other end of the ship, staring after her even when he couldn't see her any more. He wondered if she could still see him. He was pretty sure she could.

He was still looking out into the dark when Jon pounced onto his knees. It startled him just enough that he almost lost the bottle in his hands, but he recovered it quickly, cursing at Jon's sudden intrusion.

"You like her?" Jon joked.

Stephen shook his head. "What?"

"You keep watching her."

"No, I just... She's interesting."

Jon grinned. "She's a deviation, the Devil's work."

"You don't believe that," Stephen answered.

"No," Jon admitted. "But, do you?"

"I don't know."

Jon grabbed Stephen's hand and tugged him to his feet, leading him across the deck to a quieter corner. Looking around as he walked, Stephen realized that Jon hadn't been the only one spinning. A few of the other crew members were dancing, too, while others crowded around candles and talked or played an unfamiliar game with small, round stones. They all seemed remarkably happy.

Jon sat down right on the deck, in a little corner near the bow, and Stephen followed his lead, dropping with a light grunt.

"Want to know a secret?" Jon asked.

Stephen figured the only answer was yes, so he nodded.

"When I was born, your uncle had only been the Inspector for about a week. I was his first human baby."

"Yes?" Stephen asked. He took a drink, then remembered Rachel's hint about the water. He swung the pouch one of the other crew members had given to him from his hip, uncapping it.

"They didn't know about my breathing yet," Jon continued. "They didn't find out about it until I was about two, when I first started trying to run. But your uncle, he just _knew_ there was something wrong with me."

Jon looked up at Stephen, and Stephen passed him the water pouch. "Rachel says it helps you not be sick in the morning."

Jon took a sip, then grabbed up the wine bottle again.

"He--your uncle--didn't want to give my parents my certificate. He couldn't find any defects, but he had a _feeling_. He actually left my house saying he needed to think about it. Thankfully, he returned early the next morning with the signed certificate in his hand." Jon frowned. "Later, when my lungs ended up bad, I think he actually considered taking it away from me. I honestly don't know why he didn't."

Stephen frowned and took a deep breath. "You're not a deviation."

"Why not?" Jon asked. "There's obviously something wrong with me. Why would God do that?"

"You're my friend," Stephen answered. "You're a person, in the image of God. Maybe your lungs got damaged or--"

"I was born this way. Even your uncle could see it. I--"

"I don't care, then!" Stephen grumbled. He looked up across the deck and could make out Anderson's hair in the moonlight. He knew the man was looking right at him.

"Then what about Rachel? Or have you really talked to John? Look at him closely next time, and you'll see."

"It's different. I don't know, but..." Stephen raised his hands and then threw them down. "You don't know what you're talking about. You haven't had any training. You don't even know what being an Inspector means."

Stephen jumped to his feet and started running before he could even feel the sway of alcohol and the ship. Jon didn't follow him.

He nearly fell into the sleeping quarters, cursing the ladder all the way down as he slipped and grabbed. He tossed himself into his bed, curling up around his water sack. He didn't even realize he was crying until minutes later.

He cried and remembered.

When Stephen's mother had found out she was pregnant again, Stephen had been the first person she'd told. He was a bright-eyed kid, and smart, and she had pulled him out of bed late one night, half-carrying him into the sitting room.

"You're going to have another brother or sister," she'd whispered, "but you can't tell anyone about it, not yet."

Stephen nodded. It was a normal thing to happen. People didn't talk about their children until they were sure the children were actually children. He didn't know if it was bad luck, but he did know that it was a bad idea.

"I won't tell anyone," he'd answered.

His mother patted him on the head. "When the baby's born, I want you to tell me what the name should be. Will you think about it for me?"

Stephen grinned.

He'd been right next to her at the birth, not yet afraid of blood. When he'd heard the midwife whisper that the baby was a girl, he'd almost shouted "Rebecca," but then, he saw the baby's shoulder and all of his words were gone.

Lying on his side, curled up just like a baby, he wondered where she'd gone. He fell asleep wondering what her face would look like now, and he didn't wake up when Jon dropped onto the bed beside him, sullen and silent.

 

7.

Stephen crawled right over Jon, tripping blindly across the room toward the dim light of the lamp that marked the way out. When he opened the hatch, it was just barely bright enough for him to see, and all he could see was dark things and lighter things.

"Over here!" he heard a voice call out. He turned his head and saw a black arm waving against the dark blue sky. "But watch out for Paul."

Stephen stopped just in time to notice the sleeping man at his feet. He carefully stepped around the sprawled body and continued his path toward Rachel.

"You're awake much earlier today," she said once he'd reached her.

Stephen nodded. "Thank you for telling me about the water."

"You still don't look all that great," she answered, watching him sit down beside her.

Stephen took a deep breath. "I've said and done a lot of stupid things before, but alcohol just makes it worse, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes it does." Rachel squeezed his shoulder and then reached into the pocket of her coat. "Hungry?"

"A little."

Stephen accepted the little leather bag, opening it up to find a small pile of dried oats. As he washed them down with what was left of his water, Rachel stared out over the ocean.

"We'll hit land this afternoon, I think."

Stephen nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You think you're ready?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know."

Neither Stephen nor Jon had actually asked where they were going, though Stephen had assumed it was somewhere deep in the Fringes. It kind of terrified him to think about it, so he had been trying not to. He had never heard a good story about the place or its inhabitants, only that it was a barbaric place, a place of monsters and nightmares. He didn't even realize he was shaking until Rachel's hand reappeared on his shoulder.

"It's not like you think." She smiled weakly. "I'm... I was born there, and they didn't even eat me!"

Stephen even smiled at that.

"That's because you're a--" he swallowed his words, almost blushing at his own stupidity.

Rachel grinned outright. "You can't tell me deviant children don't taste as good as Normals. Unless... Stephen?"

"I'm not a cannibal!" It made him angry in a way he couldn't explain. He tried to drive it back, but it kept rising up. He was starting to stand when Rachel's fingers slipped down to his wrist.

She pressed her fingers lightly into his skin.

"I'm not either," she laughed. "So, we're doing all right."

"I guess we are," Stephen answered, dropping back into his seat. He lifted his sack to his lips and found it empty.

"Here," Rachel whispered, offering her own.

Stephen drank and then handed Rachel's water back to her. They sat in silence, watching the water, until Anderson appeared beside them.

"What does it look like?" he asked, leaning into the space between them to look out over the water.

"Late afternoon, maybe?" Rachel answered. She stood up, staring back across the deck. "If you don't need me, I think I'll go ahead and get some sleep so I can be awake when we reach land."

Anderson nodded. "That's fine."

As Rachel drifted away, Stephen tried not to watch her, looking at Anderson, and then the sea instead. When she had disappeared under the deck, Anderson gestured at Stephen.

"Come with me. I need your help with something," he said. Stephen nodded and followed him.

Stephen wasn't surprised to find the captain's quarters were as modest as the rest of the ship, a bunk, a desk, two chairs, but he was impressed by how clean and orderly everything was. He could hardly see how Anderson could need his help.

"So," Anderson began, sitting down in the farther of the two chairs. "What are your plans for dry land?"

Stephen frowned. "I don't have any. I don't even really know what Jon and I are doing, going to the Fringes or otherwise."

"Well, we'll be sure to find some work for you, if you'd like. I've already asked around about a place for you two to stay, and you shouldn't have a problem there. You can stay as long as you want, or leave if you want to. We don't have much of a government where we stay, more of a community pact. Keith--"

"Keith?" Stephen asked.

Anderson smiled. "You'll meet Keith."

"Who is he?"

Anderson cocked his head and continued to grin. "He--All right. You've noticed Rachel, and there are several others like her on the ship, though I'll let you figure them out on your own. There are many more in the Fringes, and I like it that way."

"What do you mean?" Stephen asked.

"It's a bit of a story," Anderson answered, even though they both knew he was about to tell it, anyway.

Stephen nodded, and Anderson began.

"My father was a deviation. He went away when I was very young, and, my mother only told my aunt about it. I was born healthy, so it didn't matter, anyway. I had my certificate and everything was fine. Then, when I was 15, I did something that made my aunt very angry with me, so angry, she told me the secret."

Stephen's eyes had grown wide, but he kept quiet.

"I didn't want it to be true," Anderson continued. "But I knew she wasn't lying. She wasn't the type of person to lie like that, not even out of vengeance. I couldn't take it. I ran away, kept running until I found myself deep in the Fringes. And that's when I met Keith. He helped me accept the way things were. He's a real visionary, you'll see. He realizes things, and one day, everyone will realize them."

Stephen didn't know what to say, but he could already hear the sounds of another day beginning on deck, which was enough to distract from anything else. Anderson stood up up, and Stephen did the same. They exited the cabin together and entered the chaos.

 

8.

Paul, squinting through his hangover, saw land first. When Stephen joined him at the bow, what he saw was nothing all that different from the world he was used to, a few scattered trees, a dark mass on the horizon.

"We haven't really gone all that far," Paul offered. "We sail out away from land and then come back in. It keeps us out of sight and out of trouble."

Then, Paul was gone, rushing off to tell the crew about his discovery. Stephen wandered back across the deck, not really following him, looking around until he found Jon.

They were standing together when the ship finally approached the dock. There was a small crowd on the ground nearby, and it was growing. Rachel trotted over and handed the boys a coil of rope.

"Hold this," she commanded, then jogged a few yards down the deck. When she returned, the boat was pulling up to the shore. There was a terrible bit of commotion involved in the anchoring and tying, and Jon and Stephen were glad to relinquish the rope, stepping back to stand out of the way.

Although many more people had gathered on the land, the dock was empty except for one man, a tall figure standing away from the rest of the crowd. As soon as the ramp was set, Rachel peeled down it, tossing herself into the man's arms. She swung off of him a few seconds later and disappeared into the crowd. Jon and Stephen were sharing a shrug when Anderson came up behind them.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you introduced."

Keith was a giant of a man. The boys should have realized it by the way Rachel, with all her height, had hung off of him like a little girl, but it was really impossible to tell just how huge he was when he was standing all alone at a distance.

Stephen thought of the tallest men he had ever known, his cousin Sarah's husband, whom he had only met once, and the horse tamer who lived on the outskirts of his old town, but this man dwarfed them all. When Keith stooped down to give Anderson a quick hug, the image was almost comical, but Stephen and Jon were too stunned to laugh.

"So, who are these stowaways?" Keith asked, frowning down at them.

Anderson smiled. "Two boys from the frontier who wanted to get away."

"Do they have a place to stay?" Keith asked.

Anderson nodded. "Rachel is arranging it."

"Then good." He offered his hand to Stephen and then Jon, smiling slyly as they trembled to return the handshake. "I'll speak more with you later. Right now, I have supplies to tend to."

Anderson sent them out into the crowd, with the simple instruction to "Talk to people". Then, he and Keith turned away, moving back toward the ship.

"How tall do you think he was?" Stephen whispered once the other men were gone.

Jon shook his head. "Tall. Very tall."

They stood awkwardly together, not really knowing what to do or how to simply _start talking_ to the other members of the crowd. The awkwardness wasn't something either of them had really felt before. They had known every person in their town, and conversation had come easily, but this was very different.

Luckily, a familiar voice soon shot out of the mass.

"Over here!" Rachel shouted. "Stop standing around looking like confused Normals."

"We _are_ confused Normals," Stephen answered as he and Jon neared her in the crowd. She was standing a little away from the rest of the people, wearing a fresh set of clothes and with wet hair that made both of the boys envious. She also had two girls with her, a redhead who was holding her hand and a blonde who stood a few feet back.

Rachel rolled her eyes, then raised the hand the redhead was holding. "This is Ana, and that," she gestured back, "is Amy. You'll be living with us, or with Amy, really."

The boys stared back and forth between their new housemates.

"Come on," Rachel laughed. "We'll show you."

She let go of Ana's hand and motioned for them to follow.

"'That'?" Amy snorted as they began to move away from the beach. "I'm 'that'?"

"This and that," Rachel answered. "It didn't mean it like--"

"Sure, sure," Amy said, faking a frown. She turned to the boys. "So, the frontier land? Pretty boring I'd guess."

"No really," Jon answered, smiling when she smirked back at him. "Okay, a little."

She looked over at Stephen next. "And you. You look like a girl I used to know. She was a lot younger but..." She frowned. "I'll have to ask Steve."

The trip from the shore was short, but the terrain was a little rough. The group didn't talk much as they moved over rocks and through the scattered trees. Then, they hit a long, steep rise. When they reached the top, Stephen was panting as much as Jon. Still, even as he caught his breath, he gasped.

 

9.

"Home" was a collection of tents and rough wooden houses inside the biggest wall either boy had ever seen. It wasn't quite stone, but something similar, a great mass of grayish white with large, open holes that had been patched with gates of wood and rotten metal. Metal stretched across the sky above them inside the walls, awkward rods and plates, some of them hanging in a way that made both boys nervous.

Rachel, Ana, and Amy shared a structure that was half tarp and half wood. The bigger building, crafted out of trees and other, unrecognizable tender was open on one side, with the tents hung over it as an extension.

"Amy had the tent, but since there's going to be three of you, Ana and I will move out there. We'll have to find or make another bed or two, but, we'll figure it out."

The inside the main building was simple, but strangely homey, with a bed the size of Jon's parents', a little table with three chairs, and a basin for water. Next to the basin was a small cabinet. It was dark inside the room, but Rachel strode right past the rest of them, pulling back a curtain and revealing a large window. The view was more of that strange, white wall, but it let in enough light for candles to be unnecessary.

"We can put another mattress here," she mused. "You'll have to bunk together for a while, but I think..."

"They can have the bigger bed," Amy offered. "Especially since you two are going to have to deal with mine."

"You think?" Ana asked, frowning a little. "Or we could move that bed into here and..."

Amy frowned. "I could also just sleep at Steve's for a little while."

"That might..." Rachel began. She looked over at the boys and then at Amy.

"This is boring for you two," Amy said with a smirk. She ducked into the cabinet, pulling out two short rolls of cloth.

She handed one to each of the boys and then snatched a bar of soap off of the top of the water basin. "There's a little stream on the far side of the wall. You two wash up and I'll find you some clothes while Rachel and Ana figure this out."

The boys nodded, but didn't move.

"Oh, come on," Amy sighed, rolling her eyes at Rachel and Ana before leading the boys out. "I'll show you."

They followed Amy back through the strange complex, eying the other houses and their scattered residents. Stephen wouldn't admit it, but he was looking for deviants. Keith's height had been strange, but he had had the normal amount of limbs, and a normal, friendly face. Stephen wanted extra arms and missing feet, but they seemed in small supply. Then, he remembered what Amy had said about the girl who looked like him.

"So," he began. "Tell me about that little girl you were talking about."

They had reached the back entrance in the wall and were now making their way down another hill, or maybe, Stephen realized, the other side of the same hill.

Amy shrugged as she walked. "It was about a year ago. She and an older woman showed up at the gate. We let them in, of course. I was working with some of the orphans at the time--terrible work, by the way. I mean, children, well... But Leah, that was the girl's name, she really liked to help out. She was probably about six at the time, maybe a little older, but she acted like an adult, so quiet and polite. The little ones liked her a lot more than me. I'd shout, and they'd laugh, the Leah'd whisper and they did whatever she wanted."

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know," Amy said. "She and the woman, her mother, I guess, were with us for a few months. Then, one night, they just disappeared. You should really talk to Steve, though. They were staying with him and his mother."

They had reached the water without Stephen even noticing. Jon stood at the edge, watching him and Amy as they talked.

"Well, here we are," Amy said with a shrug. "I'll be back with some fresh clothing in a few minutes."

The boys bathed in silence. They'd gone swimming together a thousand times before, and so neither was particularly shy in front of the other, but Stephen was thinking, and Jon was thinking about what Stephen was thinking. They were both wrapping themselves up in the cloth Amy had given them when Jon finally spoke.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"That girl," Jon said. "Who is she?"

Stephen shrugged. "Probably no one."

"Who do you want her to be, then?"

Stephen took a breath. "My sister."

He hoped that Amy would return soon. She didn't, and so, he was stuck telling Jon everything. When he was finished, they both sat on the ground next to the water. Jon stuck a toe into the stream, surprised at how cold he hadn't realized it was.

"I thought your mother died in an accident, like your father," he said.

"I know."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

Jon inched a little closer, stretching his arm over Stephen's shoulders. Their chins rose in unison, leading them into each other until their lips touched.

Amy paced the top of hill, half smiling to herself, waiting for them to break apart again. When they did, she made a great production of coming down, shouting across at them, carrying their new clothes in a bundle under her arm.

Then, she left them to dress, jogging all the way back, full of gossip.

 

10.

Keith's home was in the middle of the compound, a building of wood and a little salvaged stone, as tall and strange as he was.

He welcomed the group in through his door, waving them toward the long, high table that sat in the middle of the first room. Anderson and Erica were already inside, sitting near the head of the table, glasses of wine in their hands. Two men Jon and Stephen didn't know where setting platters out on the table, local meats and vegetables, thick loaves of bread.

The talk over dinner was general, town gossip and funny stories. Stephen sat across from Anderson, Jon at his side, and Rachel beside Jon. They were all laughing, everyone drinking his share of wine, when Stephen finally turned the topic to more serious things.

"Keith," he said, smiling when Keith smiled down at him. "I hear you have great plans."

Keith laughed, and Jon was glad. He wasn't sure what Stephen was looking for, but he knew Stephen's argumentative side, and he knew the troubles it could cause.

"I do," Keith answered. "I have a lot of plans."

"And how do the sea missions fit in?" Stephen asked.

It was Anderson who answered.

"We're not rich, but we're not poor. I know it looks like we robbed your town, but that wasn't the the original intention. We've been doing this for over a year now, visiting random towns, feeling out the people. We are grateful for the hospitality we've received from most of the people we've visited, but so far, we've found that the hospitality always has its limits. The sea missions are less about needing hospitality, and more about finding those limits."

Keith took up the topic then, clearing his throat before speaking. "Eventually, the Normals are going to have to realize they can't just push the undesired away. There's more to God's image than some false standard of perfection. A body is just a body, and we aren't our bodies, but what controls those bodies. You on the frontier and up in the northern lands have as many good and bad elements, as many good and bad people as we do. You may have perfect bodies, but you still have deviant minds. Throwing out those things that look strange to you isn't going to change anything, because those things that pass your external tests may not pass an internal test."

Keith allowed himself a long drink from his glass. "You can chase your criminals into the fringes, or execute them, or do what you want, but that won't stop them from existing. You can keep purging your lands of everything you find offensive, but there will always be something new you can purge. You'll perfect the body, until there are almost no deviant bodies left, but you won't be happy then, I promise that. You'll turn your eyes to other things, then, inner 'perfection', sharper and sharper standards. You'd purge until there was nothing left, but we won't let you. We're visiting your cities and towns, figuring you out, figuring out how to stop you."

Keith quieted then, watching Stephen as he thought over the words.

Then Anderson spoke again. "We're looking for places in the 'civilized' world where there is no limit of hospitality, where we can find people like us, if not in body, then in mind. We know there are Normals in the upcountry who think like us and will help us take back our human society before it is too late, before the Normals destroy it for themselves, and then us."

Stephen frowned. "Are you the same people who raid the inland border towns?"

"No," Rachel answered. "We take what is given to us. We don't use force, not like that. We're not desperate like they are. We've had our time to figure things out."

"I don't know," Stephen said.

Everything went quiet for few seconds. When it was just about to become unbearable, Stephen jumped to his feet.

"I need to... be back," he muttered. He pushed back his chair and tripped out of the room.

Jon let him get all the way out before finally pulling away from the table.

"I should follow him," he said, mostly to Rachel. She nodded and he was gone.

It was dark outside, and Stephen hadn't gone far. He had stopped on the path that led down from Keith's and was staring out over the camp. Jon took his time approaching him.

Jon was halfway to him when Amy jogged by. She hit him lightly on the shoulder as she passed, motioning at him to follow her. Jon didn't jog, but he did pick up his pace a little. He reached Stephen only a few seconds after she did.

Stephen's expression was right in the middle of changing from sick to interested.

"We're going to go talk to Steve," he said. "Let's go."

Steve lived in the other corner of the compound, near the front, but off toward the farther side. They walked together toward his home, following Amy's lead.

While they walked, Jon tried to work out what was going on inside Stephen's head, asking him little questions that didn't get any response.

Jon was two seconds away from just shaking an answer out of Stephen--and Stephen was considering similar methods for making the questioning stop--when Amy skipped out ahead of them.

Steve was waiting for them, sitting in the doorway with a lantern hanging by his head.

"My mother is sleeping," he whispered, smiling slightly as he jumped to his feet. "Come on, there's a fire out back."

 

11.

Stephen spent the next two weeks thinking. Life in the little city in the Fringes was a lot like life on the frontier in its work. There were no yard gardens, as the soil in the compound was filled with strange, sharp rocks, but there was the community's farm, which always needed weeding and tending. There were smaller gardens on the outskirts, too, including a few vegetables neither boy had seen before. They picked these as they ripened, after Amy taught them how to tell what was ripe with the stranger ones.

They ate imperfect food, and it tasted the same, though even the Fringe-dwellers threw out some crops, the ones they had learned made them sick.

Everyone worked five or six days a week, and their free time was all theirs. Jon and Stephen swam in the stream with Amy and Steve and explored the sparse woods with Rachel and Ana. Jon taught Stephen how to make a bow, and they made arrows out of sticks and pieces of the strange stone, shooting them at trees and old tarps.

All the while, Stephen thought.

He'd been avoiding Keith ever since the awkward night in his home, but, 18 days into Jon and his stay, Stephen decided to approach him.

"I've been thinking," he said as he and Keith walked through a budding field of corn, pausing every now and again to check the growth.

Keith smiled. "I know. I've seen you."

"Do you know what I've been thinking, then?" Stephen asked. He was slightly taken aback by Keith's easy response. He slowed his pace, staring up into Keith's eyes.

"You want to leave," Keith answered.

Stephen nodded. "I want to find my mother."

Steve had told him a lot of things, but the most important word he had spoken had been a name, Stephen's mother's name.

It was a long shot, and definitely foolish, but, though he had relished in all of the little stories Steve had told him, all Stephen could think about was the likelihood of his finding her, of seeing her again. After two weeks of living among deviants, he was even beginning to long for his sister. He wondered what she looked like, besides like him, if they talked the same, if she knew about him and the rest of the family.

He kept it inside, working the fields and spending time with his friends, but it slowly began to build on him. He knew what he wanted, and was beginning to believe he needed it, too.

Keith returned Stephen's nod, but more slowly. "Then you should go find her. We'll give you everything you need. Is Jon going with you?"

Stephen hadn't said anything to Jon, mostly because Jon seemed so remarkably happy in the camp. He had made friends more quickly than Stephen had ever seen him do before, and he seemed to like a life of hard work and easy leisure.

Stephen took a breath.

"Well," Keith said. "Talk to him, and let me know what you need."

Stephen smiled, weakly at first, but then, the grin exploded. He couldn't explain it, but he just took off laughing, barreling across the fields.

Jon was about as happy about the idea of leaving as Stephen had been about staying on the boat that had left the frontier, but Stephen knew immediately that he'd won him over. He'd expected it all along, and had only kept quiet out of anticipation.

They set their date of departure for three days later.

Those days were spent working the fields and lying in the grass, joking and drinking. The boys slept well, curling into each other at night as they slept.

They said their goodbyes early in the morning, with hugs and handshakes, and Amy acting the part of a worried mother. Rachel was missing, but everyone else was there to see them off. The little compound city gave as generously as Stephen's home had given to sailors. The only question he had was about the third pack that lay at their feet as he and Jon stood at the back gate of the giant wall. They were both staring down at it when someone came up behind them.

Rachel smacked them both simultaneously on the backs of their heads.

"Let's get out of here," she commanded, never letting them say a word about her arrival. It was all too obvious, anyway, two Normal-ish boys from the upcountry, wandering the Fringes without an idea or an aid beyond a vague map. She had to go with them.

Stephen shook his head, grinning all the while, and began to lead them down the hill. They'd follow the stream until it ran out. What would happen after that was left to be seen. They'd figure it out on the way.


End file.
